Chapter Twenty-two
"Luca, what are you still doing here?" Albus Dumbledore sadly considered the man before him. Peter Pettigrew was indeed dead, and Wormtail was all that remained. There was nothing of the old Marauder left to save, and for that Dumbledore was both incredibly sad and incredibly grateful. Power, next to fear, has the strongest hold on a man with Wormtail's character. And unfortunately, he had both keeping him by Voldemort's side. It would be useless to try to salvage whatever good might have survived that Halloween so many years ago. But even if there were a chance, Dumbledore probably wouldn't dream of taking it. Besides what it might do to Harry, there were other things to consider, namely Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. His two most trusted allies and friends, next to Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape, had slowly began to rebuild whatever magic they had before Tom Riddle became a name few dared to speak. And Dumbledore owed it to them to let Wormtail be the villain. Maybe when this is all over, everyone can move on. But right now, Dumbledore could not move. Could not leave this place until he had the Blood Stone. Until he did what he came here to do.
"I need an audience with Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore answered. Wormtail was about to question him when what he knew as Luca's face appeared to melt away, leaving him face to face with Albus Dumbledore. Nothing above a scared whimper escaped Wormtail's lips before he scampered down the hall, clearing the path into the chamber where Voldemort awaited.
"My, Tom, has so much changed in fifty years?" Dumbledore asked, catching Voldemort in a rare moment of oblivious concentration.
"You," Voldemort hissed, his eyes narrowing to slits, but not before Dumbledore could see the shock and even fear. Noticing Dumbledore's smile, he swallowed whatever had been boiling behind his eyes and began the game he so often played when faced with an uncertain outcome. "Please, Albus, won't you join me? Care for some tea? No? Well, feel free to take a seat. I promise, I won't bite. Yet," Voldemort added in what could have been a playful sneer if it wasn't him speaking.
Dumbledore hated that he couldn't read Voldemort nearly as well as anyone else, but he took the conjured chair regardless, and his old bones thanked him for it.
"Now what can I do for you?" Voldemort asked, ever the gracious host, as he surveyed the mage before him and wondered just how fast the man could pull his wand out of his sleeve, or if he even needed to.
"I've come for the stone," Dumbledore answered, knowing just how fast, and how willingly, Voldemort could pull his wand. And again, Dumbledore was treated to the look of surprise in his companion's face. Voldemort had not expected him to be so forward. The fact that he had been caught off guard once again infuriated him to no end.
"What makes you think I'd just hand it over to you?" he roared, forgetting the part he was supposed to be playing. It never mattered to him that it was unbelievable, the idea that Lord Voldemort was a civil, rational human being. The pretense was the thing, the time it bought to assess just how far the other person was willing to bend, time to decide if he'd kill them outright or use them first. Of course, with Albus Dumbledore, he wasn't sure if he could do either, and knowing that only made him hate the man more.
"What harm could it do, Tom?" Dumbledore smiled, ever calm.
"Don't call me that!" Voldemort snarled, images of his father and mother coming to mind, reminders that he was once a man, a child, a frail being that could be hurt, was hurt. But still, he found himself removing the stone from the setting on his throne and handing it over to Dumbledore like it meant nothing.
"It does mean nothing," Dumbledore whispered, smiling again at the shock and outrage in Voldemort's eyes. Shock so encompassing that he didn't even notice the older man's movements.
"How did you know?" Voldemort asked, sounding more human than he had in years and hating himself for it. And hating himself even more when he saw that Dumbledore's wand was out, that Dumbledore was whispering a spell he did not know, when he was supposed to know everything.
Seeing the blatant fear on Voldemort's face, Dumbledore smiled again at something hidden, the knowledge of what was going to happen next and that, no matter what happened to him, all that he had cared for and all that he had fought for would live beyond that day, and he'd live on forever. "Don't look so frightened, Tom. We both know that you can't die." And then the whole compound was enveloped by a brilliant light, a sound of everything, all energy and all life, rushing inward into the center only to be forced out again into the night with an explosion that even Cornelius Fudge could see in his sphere of denial within the Ministry walls.
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Crouching behind the bar at the 3 Broomsticks, Harry couldn't begin to fathom how it was possible that so many things could happen at once. Upon being disarmed by a misdirected spell from Arthur Weasley, Lucius Malfoy had grabbed his fallen comrade's wand, pointed it at the tuft of red hair visible from Mr. Weasley's hiding place, and had uttered the first syllables of the killing curse. Snape had immobilized two of the Death Eaters that were gaining headway towards the group from America at the far end of the pub. And in a burst of light that could only be explained after the fact, a group of Aurors, led by Mrs. Weasley, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black had blown out the door and windows, taking down a handful of Death Eaters with the debris and curses. All in one moment, the battle was over, Lucius Malfoy lying motionless on the floor, wide-eyed and effectively stunned by an angry Molly Weasley. The few Death Eaters that were not unconscious or, in one case, dead had apparated out of sight.
While the Aurors buzzed about, securing bonds around more than a dozen dark wizards, and Remus Lupin rushed to the aid of the four surviving Americans, a very relieved and very worried Sirius Black ran to Harry's side, nearly crushing the boy in the embrace that followed. "Thank you," he whispered to no one in particular (though Severus Snape did hear it and was sure to bring it up to anyone with ears that the Sirius Black had thanked him). Hearing the gasp for breath against his chest, Sirius let Harry ago, only to ruffle the boy's hair some more and smile, "You're you again." But Harry was far from happy to see his godfather. It didn't matter that Sirius had once, no, twice been so eager to kill Wormtail. All that mattered was that Harry and this nameless man currently being levitated by one of the Aurors had no such history of betrayal and hatred. Only one moment of pain, before Harry had wished him dead and it had happened. "Sirius, I killed that man," Harry whispered, eyes stinging though he couldn't even feel it above the numb, the worry that everything he had known about himself was a lie and that his godfather would see it too.
Sirius looked to where Harry's focus resided, returning a questioning glance to Arthur Weasley, who was too busy hugging his wife to notice. Grudgingly, he leaned into Snape and whispered, "What happened?"
Snape wouldn't have indulged Black's wish for discretion on any other day, but a distant yet all too clear memory of his own first kill, coupled with the fact that a handful of Aurors, who were members bound by Ministry law, surrounded them, prompted Snape to whisper his answer back. "It wasn't Avada Kedavra, must have been one of the new things he's learned this summer, though I can't imagine Lupin teaching him something like that. He was under the Cruciatus Curse at the time, I doubt he even knew what he was doing when he raised his hand, but he's been like this ever since," Snape concluded gesturing towards the stony faced youth leaning against a bar stool, staring at the man he had killed. Nodding, Sirius approached Harry, putting a hand that he hoped would be comforting on his shoulder. "Harry, it wasn't your fault," he whispered, voice breaking at a combination of memories going through his mind, none of them staying long enough to identify but all hurtful just the same.
"You'd never say it was," Harry answered, still looking at the man, just then noticing. "He's not much older than me." It was true. The Death Eater Harry had killed was only a child. Maybe he thought doing this would make him a man. But thankfully he wasn't someone from Hogwarts. Why does that make any difference? Harry wondered, knowing only that it did, somehow.
"He's probably from Durmstrang," Snape observed. "Half of that bloody school thronged to kiss that bastard's robes." Earning a growl from Sirius, Snape harnessed whatever compassion he had left for Potter's sake. "He knew what he was getting himself into, Potter," he said in the most comforting tone he could muster as he stared at the Death Eaters being led from the scene.
"Did you?" Harry asked, not even shocked at asking such a question of such a guarded man. Maybe I'm entitled, now.
"Yes."
"But you did it anyway?"
Remus had joined the group by then and he looked very curious to hear the answer to this question. As if hearing it would allow him to prevent such a thing from ever happening again, even though he knew it was an impossibility.
"Yes," was all they got out of the Potions master before a strangled cry came from outside. Rushing out, Lupin asked what had happened, but all the witch could do was point at a group of people across the street as she continued to sob into her co-worker's robes. Harry and the rest all squeezed their way into the robe shop, stopping dead in their tracks as Belinda Squammish of the WWN repeated the news: "Following a massive explosion of uncertain origins in northeast Wales, nearly one hundred bodies have been found, including Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, member of the International Confederation of Wizards, and headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Witches and wizards, a bright light has indeed gone out tonight."
A/N: I know, I'm sorry, please don't stone me to death. I'm not normally a person who flings casualty about like background music, but I thought it might do some good to prepare myself for this happening in the real HP series (that's my disclaimer, by the way). But things will work out, you'll see. Thanks to everyone who begged. I never would have pulled the plug like that, honestly. It was just a ploy, a lil' plea for attention. I don't think I could ever write anything again if I did one of my stories that injustice. But that doesn't mean you can stop reviewing!